


Trench Coats and Detectives

by laughter_is_medicine



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1940s, Detective Noir, F/M, Film Noir
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 02:10:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10584243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laughter_is_medicine/pseuds/laughter_is_medicine
Summary: It had been years since he had seen or heard from an old flame of his. But what will happen when he finds her in his office on a dark and dreary night? It may seem like one cliche after another, but when murder is involved, it's the new reality for Jughead Jones.





	1. Jughead Jones and the Not-So-Lonely Night

A heavy rain storm was all that accompanied Jughead Jones, along with his beaten up old “leather” suitcase, as he descended the steps of his old apartment building on Goldwater Avenue, refusing to look back. Jughead raised the collar on his trench coat and started to walk on the lifeless streets of Riverdale, with only the soft, eerie glow from the streetlights to guide him and the sound of the rain pattering on the pavement to provide him with conversation.

The rain showered over his silhouette as he hurried down the street to his new home, for however long that would last. Jughead didn’t make it a habit to stay too long in one place, but with his recent eviction notice, it seemed like that had to be his lifestyle from now on. He sighed, shaking his head; it was a dumb apartment anyway with a cot for a bed and the hardwood floor to serve as a desk. He was better off without it, or so he told himself.

Jughead continued to his destination, when suddenly, the streetlights went out one by one and in a moment only darkness laid before him. Jug rolled his eyes and started running. A blackout; as if this night wasn’t dreary enough there had to be a blackout while the sound of sirens started building up slowly in every direction. He knew it was only a practice drill, since they all were practice drills, but the thought of a bombing in Riverdale gave Jughead a terrible thought that he had only hoped to be left to his nightmares. It’s war time in the middle of the 1940s, he was bound to have thoughts like this, but tonight was not one of those nights of deep reflection.

Jug hurried down the empty streets, and was relieved to see the outline of his apartment only a few steps away. He began the last of his trek but was soon greeted by an ominous glow of headlights rearing down the street, coming closer and closer to him. Swearing under his breath, he quickly hid in an alleyway that adjoined his office building. The car slowly passed his hideout and stopped for a moment. Jughead backed into the wall as much as possible, hoping that he may be able to become the wall, but as soon as he thought his cover was blown, the car eventually rolled away. As soon as he saw only darkness, Jughead darted from the alley and continued to his stoop. Cops were notorious for giving Jughead a hard time, and if they found him alone on a night like this during a blackout? Another night in the detention cell would be his only option, but Jug was not in any hurry to make nice chit chat with the local police department.

He jiggled the knob, finding it was unlocked, of course, and stepped inside, brushing the rain off his overcoat. Taking off his hat, Jug quietly ascended the cobweb ridden staircase all the way to the fifth floor and set down his suitcase beside himself. With a deep breath, he swept his hand over the glass of his office door. ‘F.P. Jones – Private Detective’. He hated that title more than anything, especially since he hadn’t had a case in over a month. Apparently, nothing ever happened in a town the size of Riverdale, especially since any crime that was being committed was overseas and out of his jurisdiction.

And this is where Jughead Jones was in this point of his life. No girlfriend, no home, no family, no money and not even a real job. This was the legacy of the great Jughead Jones, all around super detective extraordinaire leaving no stone unturned and all that other garbage he used to believe in. All he had left to his name was a dingy office in the worst part of Riverdale, a typewriter that only worked half of the time and a half-written novel that sat in the bottom drawer of his desk alongside a small bottle of whiskey. The whiskey was only for special occasions anyway.

Jug set his hat on top of his suitcase to dig through his pockets to find his office key with the insignia of a crown engraved on it and the initials of an old flame on the other side. Jug palmed the key tightly in his fist and reached for the doorknob, only to his surprise that it had been broken into. He gritted his teeth; how could this night get any worse? Clearing his throat, Jughead busted through his open office door to see a silhouette of a woman leaning against the window pane behind his desk. He could only make out a few details, due to the darkness, but even though he couldn’t see exactly what she looked like, he knew exactly who it was.

“Hi, Juggie. Longtime, no see. At least, that’s something one of your mystery characters would say, right?”

Ah, that’s how it could get worse.

"Betty Cooper. To what do I owe the pleasure, or displeasure depending on how you look at it."


	2. Jughhead Jones and The Betty Cooper

Betty Cooper raised her hands with a small shrug, smirking in the midnight light. 

“The one and only, Juggie.”

From this moment, Jughead could only see the faint outline of her dimples in the dark room. It might have been impossible to see, but Jughead could tell that smile from a mile away that he knew all too well. Just thinking about that smile sent chills down his back. He only hoped Betty couldn’t tell how he was barely keeping it together. 

Even the sound of his name against her lips made him flinch. Everyone he knew called him Juggie or Jug, that was his name after all. But for Betty Cooper the sound was all too familiar and too close for his own comfort. The combination of ‘Juggie’ and her voice transported him to a world of old memories, happy thought and a lot of pain. 

Jughead shook his head in disbelief. 

“Thought you were in Chicago. Tribune, right?” 

He took off his overcoat and placed it on the couch, which was to be his new bed for the next few months. 

Meanwhile, Betty was eyeing his every movement in the shadows, like some kind of exam she had to study for. She chuckled lightly.

“I was. I was. Just thought it was time for a change of scenery.”

Jughead wiped the bit of mildew remaining from his forehead. He slowly removed his hand and realized that Betty was walking closer to him, as her outline moved with ease across the room. It was almost like she knew everything about this office and every object’s placement from the trashcan to that one squeaky floorboard she was quick to walk around. 

It drove him absolutely insane. 

He looked down and placed his hands in his pockets to do anything to avoid this conversation they were about to have. 

The clicking of Betty’s heels came to a sudden stop and when Jughead looked up, she was face to face with him. 

He could make out her features much better now probably due to his eyes finally adjusting to the darkness that surrounded them. He could see the small wrinkles on her forehead which means she had her eyebrows furrowed. Her lips were tight, but her dimples were still noticeable against her fair skin. Her curls fell in perfect assembly down her face with each ring having enough gracefulness to stand alone. She reminded him of Veronica Lake in a picture he snuck into one night at The Twilight. But no, Betty Cooper was prettier than Veronica Lake. It would be a time like this Jughead would brush the back of his hand on her cheek, embracing the beauty that was all of Betty Cooper. 

Then again, this was the present and Jug was not about to be haunted by his past. 

He frowned, “Change of scenery? So, you came back to Riverdale for a change of scenery. You.” 

He took a step back and walked to his window. He felt that if he looked at her any more he would scream. 

“You probably don’t even remember that pact we made when were 18. How we promised each other, as friends, to leave Riverdale for something more? To do something for ourselves for once?”

Betty sighed and brought her tone down, “Jughead Jones, you act like I don’t remember anything about those times or…”

She paused. 

Jughead started to become impatient. “Or what, Betty?” 

“Or us.”

He rolled his eyes and tucked a piece of hair back to its place. He spun around to face her head on. 

“You know that’s not true.”

Betty crossed her arms walking towards him again. 

“Oh really? What did that remark mean anyway?”

“Damn it, Betts. I don’t know. I meant that after your mother just—“

And this is where this conversation left off three years ago. He was not about to rekindle this argument because there would be no going back and his words could never be changed, neither could hers. 

Jughead cleared his throat hoping to change the topic to anything. He looked up at Betty and could tell she wanted the same. 

“Anyway, did you really have to break into my office. Not that I’m not flattered or anything but I do pay rent here.”

Barely. 

Betty relaxed, “Technically, you’re the one who taught me. Is not that true?”

She pulled out a bobby pin from one of her luscious locks and handed it to him. He played with the pin between his fingers smiling.

“I need to stop teaching that to people,” he huffed. 

She placed her hand on his and their eyes met. Jughead felt his hand go stiff as she took the pin back and tucked it somewhere behind her ear. 

“You wouldn’t believe how helpful that has been to me, along with your many other street tricks.”

“I resent that. They are not street tricks, I like to call them helpful resources and you know that.” 

She tossed her head back and laughed wholeheartedly.

“You were saying…. about your break in?”

She glanced up at him. “A possible murder, of course. What else?” 

“Of course. A murder. In Riverdale. There are plenty of those in Chicago for you to solve, right?”

She rolled her eyes, “Even if it has been a few years, Jug. I still know your sarcasm when I hear it. But this isn’t just any murder. This murder could change the whole town of Riverdale and what we know of it.”

She slid onto his desk. “I got a phone call in Chicago that someone in Riverdale had been killed and it was only a matter of time before the body would be found.” 

Jughead felt like the entire room was falling below his feet. This was too much too take in one night let alone one hour. 

“Who? And who called you?”

“Jug, if I knew that then there wouldn’t be a problem. The fact remains, someone in Riverdale has been killed and it’s up to us to find out who and why.”

“So, why do I have to be involved? Shouldn’t this be a case for our local police department.”

Betty sighed, “Juggie, there are two things you and I both know about our little town of Riverdale.”

Jughead paced the floor and went back to the window, hoping the falling rain would give him some sense of peace in the moment. He lifted his arm, putting it on the window frame, and placed his head into the crook of his elbow.

“What would that be?”

He heard her hop off the desk and the sound of her heels clicked against the hardwood floor as she joined him at the window looking outside. 

“One: The police department are as bumbling as Abbott and Costello.”

“And two?”

She laid her hands on his chest and reached for his tie. She tugged at the knot and had him face her as she straightened it against his white collared shirt. She stared into his eyes and tip toed to his left ear. 

“Two: You’re a sucker for a mystery.” 

She lowered herself and smiled longingly. He could only stare at her and was at a complete loss for words. The only noise was the rain in the background growing louder and louder as it bounced off the window. 

As soon as their moment began, the streetlights outside Jughead’s office went on one at a time all in a row. 

Flustered, Jughead gestured to the window. 

“Looks like the blackout is over,” he implied. “So, what do you suggest, Betts?”

Betty just shrugged walking away from the window and reached for her trench coat, hat and umbrella on the couch besides Jughead’s belongings. 

“Keep your eyes and ears open. I have a sneaking feeling that this town is about to blow wide open,” she considered as she put her hat on and adjusted it to the side, being careful not to disturb a single curl. 

“So, all of this,” he gestured broadly, “is only based on your hunch, correct?”

She smiled sadly, “has it ever been wrong before?”

She drew on her coat and reached for the door. 

“I’ll be at the Blue and Gold. I’m sure you remember where it is.” 

“Betts, wait—” Jughead protested, but as soon as she came she was gone. 

The door closed behind her and he could only make out her footsteps fade out against the floor until the sound eventually died. He turned around back to the window and watched her figure dart against the streetlamps to dip into the black. 

This seemed like a special occasion in his case. 

He creaked open the bottom drawer of his desk to have his novel staring back in his face. Disgusted, he reached underneath to find his whiskey bottle and set it on his desk beside his typewriter. He pulled out his chair and sat down, reaching for the switch on his desk lamp to have it flicker a few times and eventually turned on. 

He unscrewed the cap and filled his glass that he always kept at an arm’s reach. Swirling the amber liquid in his glass he took a small sip. Biting back the bitter taste of the alcohol he set his glass down and ruffled his jet-black hair through his fingers. 

It would be several more hours before he would retire to the ‘comfort’ of his couch, so he forced himself to use the time to continue writing. It was the only thing to keep him sane and to keep himself from dreaming of Betty Cooper that night. 

Only one question remained. 

What had he gotten himself into?


	3. Jughhead Jones and The Morning After

Jughead was disturbed by the morning glow of the early sunrise peeking in through the blinds.  He sneered in response and turned his head away to the comfort and darkness of his hardened pillow. His bare back basked in the burning sunlight that was both unsettling and wonderful all the same time.

He felt the faintness of a hand rubbing the small of his lower back and slowly trailing up to the nape of his neck. The hand slowly traced the hairline that fell just below his ears and curled at the tip. It was a little long for the time, but it suited him just perfectly.

He moved his head to face her still resting comfortably against his pillow.

He smiled shyly at her. Even though she had been his girl for two years anytime she looked in his direction it made his stomach do somersaults.

“Good morning? A little early to be up don’t you think? You know I’m a night owl.”

She smiled, her face warming in the sunshine. Her curls were still a bit disorderly from last night, but she still managed to keep each ring positively perky. It was times like these that had Jughead’s mind absolutely spinning with her beauty and her love for him.

“Silly. You know that I know everything about you.”

They both closed their eyes leaning towards one another and sharing a gentle kiss. Jughead lifted his hand to her face and caressed it against the softness of his palm. Betty smiled against his lips deepening their intimacy and closing the gap between their bodies.

All of a sudden, Betty pulled away with a jerk.

“Damn! I can’t believe I almost forgot.”

Jughead rolled his eyes sinking into the bed.

“You’re killing me here, Betts.”

She draped the covers around her silhouette and reached for her handbag on the floor. She opened it quickly and drew out something small and fragile.

“I have something for you.”

“Is it what I’m hoping it is.”

She looked to the side, “you’ll have to find out, Juggie.”

He sat up in bed and gave her a mischievous look, “Alright, alright. I’m listening.”

She bit her lip and placed the object in his hand. He looked at it with some confusion.

“Am I getting the key to your heart or….”

Betty sighed in exasperation, “You knucklehead. It’s a key to your dream detective agency you’ve been yapping about since we were 17.”

He examined the key more closely and was marveled by the shine it gave off against the morning glow from his window. The key was small and had two simple engravings. A crown on the front of it and two initials on the other side.

“B. C.” He read allowed in bewilderment.

Betty shook her head, “That way you can never forget about me no matter what happens.”

Jughead palmed the key tightly in his fist, leaving an impression of the key’s teeth.

“Betty, I don’t know what to say, how-“

She placed her finger to his lip, “You don’t have to say another word. I know.”

He reached for her finger, “No, you don’t know. Nothing will ever happen. I promise that.”

She grinned in response and they tightly embraced, being so close together not even air could be separating them.

“Betty Cooper, you’re the tops. And I love you.”

“Oh Jughead,” she moaned settling her head on his shoulder.

“Jughead.”

“Jughead Jones.”

“JUGHEAD!”

Jughead woke up with a start and jerked his body back to life. He was greeted by his two friends, Veronica Lodge and Archie Andrews.

“Geez Jughead, what happened to you last night,” Archie considered as he picked up the, now, nearly empty whisky bottle.

Veronica Lodge, dressed as smartly as always with a strand of precious pearls around her neck and a red flouncy dress, looked in horror at her friend.

“You slept on your typewriter last night? And when did you start drinking?”

Jughead just placed his head in his palms and groaned in response.

Archie looked around the small room, noticing the small bits of dust in every corner and the suitcase by the couch behind him.

“Evicted again, huh?”

Jughead removed his hands and got up; he could barely see his friends straight let alone stand up straight.

Archie and Veronica leapt to his side and put their hands on his arms and slowly guiding him to the couch where he dropped with a thump.

Jughead turned his body around, as diligently as he could to face them. He rubbed his eyes furiously and threw his hands down on his trousers.

Veronica and Archie gave each other a worried look and turned back to their friend in perfect harmony.

“Uh, so we tried going by your apartment this morning, but no response. So we decided to come here and found the door unlocked and you face in your typewriter.”

Veronica tried not to giggle in return, but Jughead’s face in his typewriter was one of the funniest things she had seen in a very long while.

She pursed her lips, trying not to burst out laughing, “So what exactly did happen last night?”

Jughead crossed his arms and scowled.

“It must have been a dream. It had to be. There was no other explanation for it. I must have been writing all night and dreamed everything about last night.”

Veronica lifted an eyebrow in utter confusion.

“Jug, what in the world are you talking about.”

Jughead sat up and brushed a hand through his thick hair.   
“Yep, Exactly no explanation. It was a dream. It had to be and I’m leaving it there.”

Archie looked very worried. He had never seen his best friend in a state like this. The only time he had was when Betty Cooper left for Chicago three years ago.

“Sorry, what?”

Jughead shot up and went over to his filing cabinet beside his desk. Above it was a single mirror. He took out a single comb from his pocket and brushed ferociously at his hair, like he was trying to get a memory out of his head, only it wasn’t working.

“Uh, nothing. Nothing at all. Like I said, I just had a weird dream last night and now I’m fine so everyone can cool off with the interrogation.”

Archie rolled his eyes and opened the door to the office, Veronica following behind him.

“If you say so. But we are heading to Pop’s for lunch. I mean, we were going to invite you, our treat of course, but if you’re not interested….”

Jughead beamed and looked to his friends, “Your treat, you say?”

Veronica sighed and nodded, “Yes, Jug. My treat.”

Jughead smiled eagerly in response, “Interrogate all you like, just give me a minute to freshen up, I’ll meet you outside.”

With that, Archie Andrews and Veronica Lodge left the office, closing the door behind them. They started down the steps and exited outside to be greeted by the warmth of the afternoon sun.

Veronica turned to Archie, “What was _that_ all about?”

Archie looked back to Jug’s building, shrugging.

“So, when exactly are we going to tell him.”

“’Bout what?”

Veronica groaned, “Oh, I’m not sure Archie. Just the fact that Jason Blossom was found dead this morning by Riverdale Lake? Or maybe the other fact that Betty is back in town on assignment?”

She put a finger to her chin, jokingly pretending to think intensely.  
“Ooh, I’ve got another one. How about the fact that his father is a main suspect?”

Archie was silent, just quietly staring at her.

“What about that, dear Archie?”  
Just then, the door behind them creaked open and Jughead stepped outside in a fresh gray suit with a slightly wrinkled red tie. He grinned in the morning light and put his arms around his friends.

“To Pop’s, everyone!”

Jughead led the way, while Archie and Veronica hung back in worry.

Archie whispered to Veronica, as soon as Jughead was out of earshot.   
“When the right time comes.”

They then followed Jughead to Pop’s diner, not realizing that someone was watching their every action the entire time.

**Author's Note:**

> I originally had this chapter posted on my Tumblr, steadybackhome, but wanted to expand on it a bit more so now it will become a multi-chapter fic. Enjoy and thank you for the read!


End file.
